You tiptoed through the Chateau like you weren’t supposed to be there—technically, you weren’t. Kook royalty sneaking around Pogue territory was already a scandal waiting to happen, but dating JJ Maybank? That was a whole different level of chaos.

And maybe that’s why you grinned as you slipped into his room.

The air smelled like salt and sun and him. His shirt—your favorite one, worn and soft—was draped over the chair. You grabbed it, pulling it over your head, letting it fall oversized and cozy against your skin.

You were halfway out of the room when his voice stopped you.

“Stealing from me again?”

You froze. Slowly turned.

JJ leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, that smug little smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes dragged over the sight of you in his shirt—bare legs, wild hair, flushed cheeks.

“Again?” you repeated, raising a brow.

He pushed off the frame and strolled toward you, lazy and confident like he knew exactly what he was doing to your heart.

“First my heart,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Then my shirt.”

His hand lingered at your waist as he leaned in, voice dropping low.

“What’s next? My last name?”

Your breath hitched. Heat rushed to your cheeks. “Cocky much?”

He grinned. “Nah. Just manifesting.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to turn away, but he pulled you back by the hem of his shirt—his shirt—until your chest was against his.

“You’re not leaving in that, by the way,” he murmured.

“Oh, really? Why not?”

He dipped his head, lips brushing your neck. “Because if you wear that around anyone else, I might have to start a fight.”

You laughed softly. “Territorial much?”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Only when it comes to you.”